


home before dark

by midnight sun (notyoongs)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst, Haikyuu!! Manga Spoilers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, That's it, also they're in love, but when are they not, set during the time skip, this is basically one long phone call
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:41:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29951493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notyoongs/pseuds/midnight%20sun
Summary: it’s not really advice he’s looking for, he knows. he just wants someone to look at the mess hinata’s heart has made and see him, and not think it’s too much to deal with, and not tell him that he needs to clean himself up.he wants someone who will get down in the mess with him. and that someone, for hinata, has always been kageyama.(or: hinata gets homesick.)
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Comments: 14
Kudos: 76





	home before dark

**Author's Note:**

> i was listening to hold on by justin bieber and thinking about brazil hinata and then this happened.
> 
> fair warning it's unnecessarily wordy and there's some inaccurate characterization because i was projecting a lot on hinata. i moved to korea in august and based his experience off of my own, so in a way, this was just retroactively cathartic for me and was me working through the reason i felt the way i did rather than trying to make this a masterpiece... but oh well. please enjoy anyway!

Wasn’t that the definition of home?  
Not where you are from, but where you are wanted.

_—Abraham Verghese_

☾

it hits hinata on friday night, suddenly and intensely and more than he can bear—

the homesickness.

he’s been in brazil for a week—a week of whirlwind activities and emotions, from first arriving and moving into the apartment he’ll call home for two years, to exploring the city and getting his first taste of the culture, to watching a handful of beach volleyball games and even getting to try his hand at the painfully familiar yet frustratingly new sport. hinata’s days have been filled to the brim with movement and trying to adjust to the time difference, the language, the heat and locals. by the time his head hit the pillow every night, he was out like a light, giving himself no time to reflect on his new beginnings.

he’s barely even had time to chat with his family back in japan or to even _think_ about japan—about what he’s left behind by moving to brazil to learn a whole different version of a sport he’s already well-versed in, a version that he’ll never actually play once he returns home. but it’s too late to focus on semantics now.

and anyway—the point is that, much like hinata’s life has always been, this week has been a blur of movement and new experiences. it hasn’t been without its challenges, of course; hinata still only knows enough portuguese to get by without feeling like a wreck, and he’s been jetlagged due to the twelve-hour time difference, and he should have packed more of his favourite japanese snacks, because he’s already burned through most of them and he can hardly demand his parents send him a care package already.

but even then, hinata hasn’t had time to focus on the hiccups. he’s been too busy marveling over the fact that he’s living in a new country now, more independent than he’s ever been, and going to take the next step in his plan to conquer the volleyball world. he gets to learn new things and meet new people and grow even more than he did in high school. it’s going to be the best two years he’s ever had; hinata is sure of it.

so after a week of trying to settle in and adjust to living in a new country, hinata knows he deserves some sort of celebration. even if his portuguese is shoddy at best, heading down to one of the local bars might be a good idea; alcohol knows no language, after all. or perhaps he’ll try to catch a new movie playing in theatres that he’s been meaning to see, or maybe he’ll head to the beach and try to catch a volleyball game or even just hang around in the sand, or maybe he’ll try to engage his oddly-distant roommate so they can get to know each other properly, or maybe—

it doesn’t matter what he plans in the end, anyway. because it’s friday night and he’s been in brazil for a week and he finally has time to _breathe,_ to slow down and try to enjoy the weekend, and then suddenly, as he’s just standing in his room and looking up different clubs and bars in the area, hinata is so fucking homesick that it _aches_ somewhere deep within him.

the unexpected wall that hits him leaves him reeling as he looks up from his phone, blinking at his mostly-unpacked room like he’s never seen it before. he was fine just a moment ago—perhaps a little hungry, but it was nothing to worry about. but now, between one breath and the next, it feels like someone has reached into his chest and flicked a switch on his heart. on—fine. off—not fine. on—wanderlust. off—

hinata puts down his phone and then gingerly sits down on the edge of his bed. his brows furrow at this new, strange feeling that weighs down his chest like someone is physically trying to push his ribcage _in in in,_ and when he presses his hand over his heart, he realizes it’s beating too hard. but it’s almost like he’s beginning to have trouble breathing, heaviness and sluggishness settling over him.

hinata meets his own eyes in the full-length mirror next to his door, surprised at the befuddled and worried expression on his own face. but—he takes one breath, and then another. the weight doesn’t dissipate, but he finds he _can_ breathe. he’s not having a heart attack, at least. but that ache remains, panging in his heart with every beat and breath and _thought._

he can’t quite put his finger on it—the exact emotions that begin to surface. there’s… fear, for sure, and some dread, and exhaustion that tugs at his limbs like he’s just played a five-set game. his gut twists in a new type of anxiety. but within those feelings remains his excitement and how much he’s looking forward to getting to relax for the evening. he already made plans for next week and he’s anticipating those greatly, and yet—if he shifts his eyes a little, it’s like there’s a shadow on the floor creeping toward him, dark and ugly.

hinata knows he’s imagining it, because he’s alone in this room and there’s no monster to swallow him whole. but he can still see the shadow stretch across the floor, inching closer and closer to where his feet are planted on the ground, and his hand is still pressed over his heart, willing this deep ache to subside. then the shadow reaches him, and the moment they make contact, one clear thought rings out in his mind:

_i want to go home._

but—hinata shakes his head. that’s not true at all. he _doesn’t_ want to go home, because he wants to be here. he wants to learn a new language and experience a new culture and learn to play beach volleyball. he’s been wanting this for a while now, since graduation a year ago. he’s been planning for this for ages, making sure everything would be in order for a smooth transition. he’s had only a few hiccups over the past week, although he anticipates he’ll struggle over the next few months—as most of the research he’s done has told him.

so hinata wants to be here. but… he swallows tightly, feeling something clench around his heart and refuse to let go. now that he’s actually sitting still for once, _breathing,_ reflecting on the week, he realizes not everything has been as exciting as he’s hoped. no one here speaks japanese, but hinata is far from fluent in portuguese. the food is different, even if he likes it. _everything_ is different, the small things that he wasn’t expecting, like how the trash and recycling works, or proper etiquette in restaurants. he’s done his research. he’s prepared. but it’s still… _not_ japan. it’s still not home.

it’s not that he doesn’t like it here. rather, he’s enjoyed this week immensely, even with the struggles he’s had. it’s just that it’s so different from home, and it’s far from a vacation where he gets to focus only on the exciting and relaxing parts of a new country.

worst of all, of course, is being _alone._ oh, he’s gone much longer than a week away from his family. hinata prides himself on being independent to begin with, and he’s never been clingy with his parents or sister. but… it’s different when he’s gone to nationals or on a vacation. it’s different when he knows he’s going home soon. it’s different when it’s only his missing family he has to worry about, instead of everything else on top of it all.

hinata already likes brazil. he knows he’ll like it even more as he learns the local language and gets settled and plays volleyball. he’s looking forward to it all. but that doesn’t change the fact that suddenly, he’s overwhelmed with the lack of familiarity surrounding him. that doesn’t change the fact that he’s reflecting for the first time in a week and realizing that this is a lot fucking harder emotionally than he was anticipating.

he researched everything he could—the cultural differences and how to open a bank account and how to get a phone plan and the basic portuguese phrases he should have in his back pocket and what the public transportation system is like and what to expect when it comes to the weather. _that_ stuff is easy to adjust to, he’s finding.

it’s just… no amount of research could prepare him for the way the homesickness suddenly slams into him without warning, like it’s been steadily building for a week and now that he’s finally allowing himself to _rest,_ there’s nothing keeping it at bay. he didn’t think it would be a problem. he’s _mature,_ emotionally. he _wants_ to be here. he likes new challenges. but even then, hinata realizes… he can be mature and still yearn for familiarity in an entirely new country.

as he sits with the ache, hinata realizes… it’s not that he wants to _leave._ it’s not that he doesn’t want to be here. it’s just that he also wants to be home.

he wants _both._

hinata takes a deep breath, and lets the air rattle out of his lungs on the exhale. so this is homesickness, and it’s like nothing he’s ever felt before. this isn’t missing his parents during a sleep over in second grade. this isn’t wishing he could see his little sister while staying in tokyo for nationals. this isn’t anything he can soothe on his own.

it’s like… he’s drowning in it. it’s like every time he takes a breath, all he’s doing is letting more and more homesickness into his lungs. he can’t possibly explain the way it suddenly fills him up from top to toe, or how his breathing becomes shakier and shakier as he tries to get a handle on his own emotions, or how, between one second and the next, hinata realizes he’s about to start crying.

it’s stupid, really. he would call himself an emotional person, yet he’s crying about— _this._ but it’s not because he’s sad. it’s not because he’s focusing on the feeling of missing something he won’t get for two years. it’s just that he’s so overwhelmed with raw emotion that the only way it’s going to escape him is through his eyes.

if he focuses on these emotions, he supposes it’s not even wanting to go home. it’s just the knowledge that he won’t go home for _two years,_ and everything is going to be different for two years, and he’s going to miss so much for two years. it’s knowing it’s going to be hard and suddenly feeling an overwhelming amount of fear over just _how_ hard it will be, and yearning for the safety and comfort of a country he’s grown up in and family or friends he knows well. he supposes it’s not so much that this past week has been difficult or that he misses home because of it; it’s simply that this is the very first step of a long journey in a foreign country where he will be alone and tired and frustrated in some way every day, and it’s fucking _terrifying,_ and he doesn’t want to suffer with potentially little reward, and if he was back home, all of those feelings would just… go away.

hinata slowly sinks backwards onto the bed until he’s lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling. his vision blurs within seconds, and he lets the hot tears drop from his eyes unbidden. it’s the strangest feeling in the world—to cry without even making a sound, just staring up at the ceiling and letting the waves crash over him. each one is a new ache, a new homesickness he didn’t even know existed—

_i miss my parents. i miss my sister. i miss karasuno. i miss the mountain. i miss ukai’s family store, and the meat buns. i miss hearing japanese. i miss playing volleyball. i miss the smell. i miss the taste. i miss home. i miss home._

_i miss—_

_kageyama._

hinata blinks, making a choked sort of noise as he’s shocked by his own thoughts. but the tears continue, cathartic in releasing the pent-up emotion, and now that he’s thought of—of _him,_ it’s all hinata’s mind and heart will fixate on.

kageyama. god, he misses kageyama.

he misses kageyama’s stupid face when he’s thinking too hard about something, which is the same whether he’s trying to choose a drink at the vending machine or which toss will result in gaining a point during a game. he misses kageyama’s endless tenacity when it comes to volleyball and winning and growing. he misses kageyama’s willingness to just sit and listen to hinata talk about volleyball and new techniques and plans for the future, even if they both have other, more important things to do. he misses kageyama’s hands, how they can hold a volleyball and hinata’s hands with equal adoration and care. he misses kageyama’s bickering, his bluntness, his utter confidence in hinata. he misses kageyama’s voice. he misses kageyama’s way of existing, and existing around hinata, and making hinata feel like he’s always _home_ no matter where they are, because with kageyama nothing could ever be wrong or terrifying or out of place, and with kageyama, there’s always the warm sort of familiarity that assures hinata of his worth and his potential and, most of all, his ability to love and be loved in return.

this intense bout of homesickness is for a lot of things, hinata is sure. but there’s just one thing that encompasses it all, and leaves him feeling as though he’s untethered at sea without it, only hoping for land in the distance: _kageyama._ it’s only been a week since they last saw each other, but now hinata thinks of kageyama seeing him off at the airport with that effortlessly aloof air about him, like he didn’t really care that hinata was leaving for two years—but he thinks of how kageyama had held onto him so tightly when they said goodbye, fists curling into the back of his coat, and how his breath had rattled in hinata’s ear when he bent so they were pressed together, every inch, and how he’d said, voice thick and on the verge of breaking, “i’ll still be better than you at volleyball when you get back, just so you know.”

to an outsider, it might have seemed to be an insensitive thing to say. but hinata understood everything behind those words, the most important of which was: _come back. i’ll be waiting for you. we made a promise._

hinata gasps in a breath, eyes already sore from crying as the thoughts of kageyama bring about a fresh round of tears. stupid. it’s so fucking stupid. how can he be this homesick for a _person?_ for a person he’s long claimed has been the bane of his existence? for a person he once hated upon first sight, the person he chose as his rival in middle school, the person he, well—

of course it makes sense. kageyama might be all of those things, but he’s also the person hinata loves most in the world. he’s also the person hinata would rather like to spend the rest of his life with, if he’s given the chance. he’s also just… _home._ for hinata, he’s always been home.

and oh, hinata is so fucking homesick.

in truth, he’s not sure what to do about it. so he just lets himself cry for a bit, breathing through his mouth and wiping at his dripping nose when it becomes too much to bear. this seems like something he simply has to feel, something he simply has to last through so he can come out of the other side. but still, he can’t help wondering if this is going to happen often. if this is just because it’s his first week here and it’s been long and busy and hard. he wonders if it’ll get easier to remember the way kageyama likes to touch him and feel like he could craft a phantom kageyama out of his own loneliness.

he’s not sure how long it lasts before he runs out of tears to cry, but by then, his eyes are aching with soreness and his lungs hurt. even when the crying tapers off, though, the heaviness hasn’t lifted from his chest. if anything, he almost feels _worse,_ knowing that the cathartic act of crying has done little to alleviate the homesickness. but it doesn’t feel like he’s drowning anymore, and he can think a little clearer; there’s no panic and anxiety twisting within him, only the heaviness of missing the part of himself that he didn’t realize would hurt so much to leave behind.

it’s not fair—that in order to gain something great, he must lose something great first. it’s not fair that he can’t have both brazil and japan, this life and that life. it’s childish to be upset about it, but while he’s stewing in this emotion, hinata allows himself to be selfish for once.

in any case, there’s no way he’ll be leaving the apartment to go out this evening. silently, hinata resigns himself to a night in, although he doesn’t want to spend his first weekend in brazil crying his fucking eyes out because he misses _kageyama tobio._ god, kageyama would tease him endlessly for it, never let him hear the end of it, and—

hinata sits up, spots dancing in his vision at the sudden movement.

of course. he and kageyama might be on opposite sides of the world right now, with a twelve-hour time difference and lives that no longer revolve around each other, but hinata can still— _have_ him, in some way. 

kageyama is notorious for not answering texts and calls—hinata has often lamented this fact with no reasonable improvement in kageyama’s behaviour—but surely… surely he’ll answer. if hinata is calling from brazil, he’d answer. right?

hinata grabs his phone, unlocking it and finding his text conversation with kageyama. they’ve chatted a few times throughout the week, but they’ve been short and insignificant conversations; they’re both busy, after all, and hinata promised he would actually call to have a real conversation on sunday. now he worries at his lip, rubbing at his sore eyes as he checks the time. it’s almost six in the evening, which means it’s already six _tomorrow morning_ in japan. six on a saturday morning—will kageyama even be awake? what’s his practice schedule like? does he have the day off? would he rather sleep in?

but—hinata’s chest clenches again. for once, he doesn’t care if kageyama has practice or wants to sleep in. hinata _misses_ him. hinata—hinata needs him. the homesickness and rolling emotion push him forward, leaves him with little room to argue as he presses on kageyama’s name and then flops back down on the bed, phone to his ear as he waits.

the phone rings. and rings. and rings. hinata feels the brief spark of hope and comfort wane the longer it goes on, and—oh, it was stupid anyway. but his mother will probably be awake if he calls her instead, and he _does_ miss her, too, but in that moment, he realizes the _only_ person he wants to talk to right now is the one not picking up his goddamn phone. hinata lets out a slow, drawn out sigh, bringing his phone away from his ear and—

“hello?”

hinata freezes at the tinny voice coming from his phone, and then just as quickly returns it to his ear. except—what is he supposed to say? he didn’t think any of this through, fueled only by need and desire and now, now—

“hinata?” kageyama’s voice is low and rough through the phone, and hinata’s toes curl against his will. he knows that tone of voice so well, easily recognizable as kageyama’s voice early in the morning, after he’s just woken up.

shit.

“hinata,” kageyama says again, a little firmer. “i can hear you breathing.”

“oh,” says hinata dumbly, and has to clear his throat because his _own_ voice has come out scratchy with all the crying. he can’t let kageyama know, though, so he’s quick to say, “sorry, i woke you up, didn’t i?”

kageyama makes a noise in the back of his throat, something caught between a sigh and a hum. “time is it?” he asks.

“uh, almost six in the evening here,” says hinata, staring at the ceiling again. “so almost six in the morning for you. sorry. oh god.”

“s’fine,” kageyama grumbles, even though it’s not fine, but—but god. _god._ tears well in hinata’s eyes without his permission, because it’s… it’s kageyama. he’s talking to kageyama, can listen to his voice and hear his replies. they’re a world away from each other right now, but when hinata closes his eyes and rolls onto his side, curling into himself, he can almost pretend they’re at least in the same country, just on the other side of the mountain. he can almost pretend kageyama will come running if hinata asks him to.

(the stupid thing is, he still would. even this far from each other, kageyama would get on a goddamn plane and come to brazil if hinata really needed him to. somehow, that makes him feel worse.)

“why are you calling me at six in the morning, anyway?” asks kageyama, not even bothering to enunciate his words correctly. he must be on the verge of sleep again. “s’what? friday?”

“yeah,” breathes hinata, not trusting himself to say real words considering the tear that slips out from his closed lid. kageyama will know. if hinata says anything, kageyama will _know._

“shouldn’t you be out partying or something? you’re not doing the whole _first time in a new country as a young adult_ thing properly.”

hinata doesn’t know how to tell him that it wouldn’t be the same, anyway. nothing is going to be the same without kageyama—he knows that now. it doesn’t have to be a bad thing, but right now, he knows he’s exactly where he needs to be.

he swallows, trying to keep his voice even and as cheerful as usual when he says, “i didn’t want to party. it’s not like _you’re_ out partying every weekend, either, kageyama.”

“i’m the one on a professional team.”

“and i’m here to play volleyball, too, not get shitfaced all the time!”

“ _christ,_ not so loud,” groans kageyama. it sounds like his face is half-pressed into his pillow, and hinata can’t help but imagine what he might look like—limbs spread out on his bed, bedsheets tangled from his sleep, lazily keeping his phone pressed to his ear even as he keeps his eyes closed and tries not to drift off again. within a moment of the mental image entering his mind, hinata is reaching for his own pillow, holding it tightly against his chest as he realizes this was, in fact, a terrible idea.

he just misses kageyama more now.

“sorry,” he whispers, and then realizes it’s the wrong response when kageyama goes silent. normally they bicker so much, tease and fight, and— _apologies_ are hard to come by, unless they’re serious. hinata has never once apologized for being _loud,_ though, and he knows it’s because he’s not being himself.

kageyama must know it, too.

there’s faint rustling on the other end of the call, and then kageyama’s voice is more awake when he says, “you didn’t answer my question.”

“what question?”

“why are you calling me right now?”

of course kageyama wouldn’t beat around the bush. it’s not that he’s upset at being woken up before six in the morning, or that he wants to get this over with so he can go back to sleep. but he must know that hinata wouldn’t call just to _call,_ not at this time, not when he promised to call on sunday, not when kageyama is right: he should be out there in the city, enjoying his first weekend here, having fun, doing what _a young man in a new country_ ought to be doing. he wants hinata to admit the truth, so that kageyama can do something about it.

so he can fix it.

the truth is, it’s not often that hinata finds himself being _needy._ even when he has a problem, he’s quick to think up solutions and doesn’t spend much time dwelling on the pain of it before enacting a plan to fix whatever is wrong. neither does he choose to go to _kageyama_ when he needs help most of the time, unless his problem is with volleyball. there are other, more experienced people in practically every faucet of hinata’s life. kageyama isn’t a _fixer_ in hinata’s life. in fact, he probably causes more problem for hinata than anything.

but hinata has learned that when it comes down to it, kageyama is nothing if not fiercely protective of hinata. and if hinata needs him, he’s not going anywhere. it’s not often they’ve had this type of conversation, and hinata wouldn’t name kageyama as the person he thinks of first when he wants comfort, but… it’s _kageyama._ it’s kageyama, who loves as wholly and completely as he does anything. it’s kageyama, who is meticulous and thorough. it’s kageyama, who has always seen hinata as his greatest challenge, but has never used that to bring hinata down—only to treat him like something to be _revered,_ like something he would go to his grave loving so ardently that even his passion for volleyball pales in comparison.

hinata has spent the past four years learning all of the ways that kageyama tobio loves. he has spent the past four years learning all of the way he lets himself be loved. these days, hinata thinks he’s much better at letting himself be cared for, and as independent and mature as he wants to be, that doesn’t mean he can’t just want his favourite person to take care of him a little more today.

hinata thinks of all of this in the second after kageyama asks _the question,_ and then knows, within that same second, that he can’t say any of it. is it too embarrassing? does he worry kageyama would tease him? is he afraid of being vulnerable right now, because he worries that admitting he’s homesick and struggling will feel like a failure, will make him second-guess his decision to come here in the first place, will make him think he never should have left japan in the first place?

does it matter?

either way, hinata takes a deep breath, and then says, “i was worried you would miss me too much.”

kageyama snorts. “impossible,” he says. “i’m actually glad you’re gone. my life has been so peaceful and quiet without you.”

“you’re so mean, kageyama-kun.”

“you’re the one who woke me up at the ass crack of dawn and won’t tell me why, dumbass.”

hinata takes another deep breath. he’s sure kageyama would understand. he’d be more than understanding, would listen, would try his best to give hinata advice or comfort. he’d want to fix it. but hinata doesn’t really want to talk about it—not the weight on his chest or the hardships he’s beginning to see shine through more and more as he reflects on the past week or his fears for the future now that he’s allowed himself to feel homesick. that’s not going to help—not this time. he just… he just wants to talk to kageyama. he just wants to _exist_ with kageyama. that was always one of his favourite things about being kageyama’s partner. they were always good at just existing together. that’s what he misses most.

so instead of admitting the truth, hinata asks, “can you just… talk to me? please?”

he feels kageyama’s hesitation like a viper poised to strike. “is everything okay?”

“i just, um,” hinata says, clearing his throat when it threatens to close up with emotion. “i just want to know how your week was.” _don’t ask,_ he silently pleads. _don’t ask. don’t ask._ if kageyama pushes, hinata will break and tell the truth. but then he’ll cry again, and the homesickness will only rear its ugly head, and he doesn’t want that. not right now. he just wants—kageyama. he wants kageyama to talk to him, to lull him into a sense of familiarity with the low timbre of his voice and the rounded edges of his syllables. he wants to pretend he’s back home with kageyama, that kageyama is right _here._

kageyama can tell something is wrong, surely. but he doesn’t push. he just hums, the sound vibrating down hinata’s spine, and says, “okay. but it’s not very interesting.”

“s’okay,” says hinata. “i just like hearing your voice.”

it’s only a little embarrassing to admit, and kageyama, because he’s kageyama, lets it slide with a quiet, “didn’t know i was your personal asmr guy.” the comment makes hinata’s lips quirk up into a half-grin, pressing his face into the pillow hugged to his chest. kageyama has every right to tell him to get lost and hang up. he has every right to tell hinata to call back later. instead, he hums thoughtfully, takes a good second to think, and then starts talking hinata through his week.

he’s right—it’s not that interesting. but he does as hinata asks anyway, describing his days in detail and letting hinata have just a glimpse of his life. it’s mostly about practice, between his v.league team and the national team, plus training he does on his own time because, like hinata himself, he eats, sleeps, and breathes volleyball more than ever. but volleyball is practically a love language between them at this point, and the more kageyama talks, the more hinata feels himself begin to relax. the more he feels the pressure on his chest begin to disperse, allowing him to breathe a little easier.

kageyama talks about his teammates, the plays that are giving him trouble, the drills his coaches make them do. he mentions having dinner with his parents, and how much he enjoyed the food. he describes the new television show he’s started watching, which is apparently shit but the kind of shit that is oddly addicting so he can’t stay away, and hinata makes a mental note to watch it so they can shit on it together.

he talks at length, too, about some debate he and ushijima got into on wednesday, and it’s so ridiculous that hinata starts giggling into his pillow, and the sound seems to spur kageyama on in his detail of the story and the enthusiasm in his voice, and he can—he can _hear_ kageyama’s smile in his voice, because of course. of course he knows what hinata likes to hear most.

it’s not much to an untrained ear. it’s not real comfort, not a therapy session, not the two of them having a meaningful conversation. but it’s just what hinata needs right now, and he lets kageyama’s voice fill up all of the empty, lonely spaces within him. he lets kageyama’s words surround him, make him feel warm and safe and loved all over again. he’s not any less homesick, if he thinks about it, but maybe it’s not about making the homesickness go away. maybe it’s just about reminding himself how wonderful it is to have something to be homesick about in the first place.

being homesick for kageyama just confirms what hinata has known since they were fifteen—that this is something good. that he’s found someone he should never let go of. that no matter where they go or what they do, whether they’re together or apart, they are always going to come back to each other.

_we made a promise._

the more kageyama talks, the more comfortable hinata gets with the homesickness. when it first hit, it was overwhelming and too big for him to get a grasp on, like a tsunami crashing into his ill-prepared home. but having kageyama near has lit up the darkness of his emotions and forced the shadows back until he can see this creature he can call his heart. now he can curl his hand around it, hold it close to him, and simply let it exist alongside him.

and so, when he realizes it’s no longer so terrifying and overwhelming anymore, hinata also realizes he can talk about it.

kageyama is in the middle of explaining his weekend plans—having run out of things to say about the past few days—when hinata interrupts him. he doesn’t mean to be rude, but it comes out anyway, like it can wait no longer: “i miss you.”

kageyama stops speaking, a hitch in his voice when he does so. hinata opens his eyes, not waiting for a response before he continues, “that’s why i called you. i was doing great all week and then i just… i just got really fucking homesick and it felt like i couldn’t breathe for a bit, and i cried my eyes out, and then i realized the only thing i wanted was you.”

they talked about this at length before hinata left—about how they would navigate this relationship of theirs from opposite ends of the earth, and what it would mean for them, and how hard it might be. see, hinata came to terms with his feelings for kageyama years ago, perhaps at the beginning of their second year in high school. he’s known kageyama has returned those feelings since the beginning of their third year, at least. but they never really… _did_ anything about it, for fear of ruining their partnership in volleyball or giving themselves distractions. the year after high school was spent being a lot more open with their feelings, being _blatant,_ even, and there are some nights forever burned into hinata’s mind, his _skin._ they could make him blush even now.

but then hinata planned to leave for brazil. maybe it’s not fair to kageyama to admit the truth now, when it was hinata who was so adamant about not doing long distance. is it fair to either of them to let his heart out like this, knowing they can’t do anything about it? knowing it’ll be two years before he can come home and they can finally try what they’ve been wanting to for so long? kageyama is waiting for him. does this phone call count as playing with his feelings?

except—except then kageyama says, “i miss you too, sho,” and it’s soft and quiet and— _fond,_ and hinata’s heart squeezes again, but in a completely different way from before. maybe they’re both a bit shit at this. but it should come as no surprise that they’re matching each other stride for stride even in this. “i’m sorry you’re homesick.”

“well, what should i have expected?” hinata laughs, although it sounds empty. “i’m in a new country where i don’t really speak the language and i know a grand total of one person and absolutely nothing is the same as in japan. all of the blogs and websites said i would experience culture shock, but i guess i wasn’t expecting… _this._ ” now that he’s mostly come out from the other side of it, he hopes he never has to feel that amount of raw emotion again. it was physically painful.

“that doesn’t mean you should beat yourself up over it,” says kageyama. “are you really okay? you were super weird when i picked up.”

hinata has the good sense to feel at least somewhat sheepish. “i didn’t _think_ before i called you, honestly.”

“when do you ever think before doing something?”

“are you calling me stupid?”

“i’m saying you let your emotions decide things for you sometimes. it’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

hinata huffs. “i wanted to hear your voice,” he admits. “and it would have scared you off i had just admitted i was having an emotional breakdown when you’d just woken up.”

there’s genuine confusion in kageyama’s voice when he asks, “why would that scare me off? if you’re ever having an emotional breakdown, you can call me. or if you’re not having an emotional breakdown.” he’s so painfully sincere; it almost makes hinata want to start crying again. they truly have come a long way from the first years they were, especially kageyama. they might stumble sometimes, a by-product of continuing growth, but they’re here. they’re here and kageyama _wants_ hinata to call, to ask for help, to demand comfort when he needs it.

hinata turns his face into his pillow again, trying to even out his emotions with his breathing. he wants kageyama to touch him right about now, to hold him. he’d even take an aggressive hair pull. he didn’t realize just how much he thrived on physical touch until he left japan and now all he has is a voice through a phone.

“when did you get so nice, kageyama-kun?” hinata grumbles.

“probably when i realized pulling someone’s hair on the playground isn’t actually the best way to show you like them.”

hinata grins. “you still pull my hair.”

“it’s done with affection. and you deserve it for being a brat all the time.”

he’s so warm. he’s so warm and feels so strangely taken care of, even if they haven’t really talked about the problem at hand. it’s just—kageyama does know how to make him feel better. it’s just kageyama. it’s always kageyama.

“are you really sure you’re okay, though?” kageyama asks then. “do you want to talk about your feelings?”

“why would you say it like that?”

“how else am i supposed to say it? i’m being _nice!_ ”

hinata groans, and then rolls onto his stomach so he can press his cheek into the mattress. “i don’t know,” he says. the homesickness is still so new and raw, and he’s not sure he has the words for it. but he knows kageyama will sit and listen for as long as it takes for hinata to find them. “i guess it’s just… hard in ways that i wasn’t anticipating. i was prepared for language barriers and not having the same foods and stuff like that. but there are all of these little things i wasn’t ready for. the fact that everything is so different is kind of scary, you know?” he sighs as kageyama hums in agreement. “i knew everything would be different and i _know_ i’m here for two years, but i think part of it was just realizing this is it. for two years. not having any sense of familiarity for two years, not being able to take the easy way out. i want the challenge. i want to grow. but is it also wrong to want some things to stay the same?”

“there’s nothing wrong with that,” says kageyama. “there’s nothing wrong with missing home. i mean, you moved to a new country. i’d be more worried if you _didn’t_ miss japan a little.”

hinata sighs. “i just don’t get it. it’s not like i don’t want to be here. i don’t want to go home, but… i still feel like this. i guess i—i want the comfort that home brings. the sense of belonging and the familiarity. i don’t have that here yet.” talking to _kageyama_ about this might be a bad idea; the two of them were never known for discussing emotions at length, and he’d be hard-pressed to say kageyama is good at giving advice for how to deal with this kind of thing. but kageyama is his best friend, and if hinata had been looking for _advice_ when he picked up the phone, he would have called sugawara or takeda-sensei. it’s not really advice he’s looking for, he knows. he just wants someone to look at the mess hinata’s heart has made and _see_ him, and not think it’s too much to deal with, and not tell him that he needs to clean himself up.

he wants someone who will get down in the mess with him. and that someone, for hinata, has always been kageyama.

“i dunno, hinata,” murmurs kageyama. “i don’t think you need to get it. you don’t have to reason it out. it’s just how your heart feels right now, and… even if in your _head_ you know you’re looking forward to living in brazil and have no logical reason for having an emotional breakdown right now, it doesn’t matter. your heart is a different beast entirely.”

hinata pouts. “i’m good at handling my emotions.”

“i didn’t say you weren’t.” his voice is soft. maybe _too_ soft, like he’s worried about making hinata feel worse. “it’s like you said—everything is new and different. and that _is_ exciting. but it’s also not home. i bet your emotions are just kind of frazzled right now from all the excitement and from the move, and something deep within you is feeling unsettled and untethered without the familiarity of home. so it doesn’t have to be logical… it’s just a lot for you subconsciously, at least, and your brain is translating it as homesickness.”

“i did kind of hit a wall. i didn’t even get a warning about it—it was just like, i blinked and i was so overwhelmed with emotion that i didn’t know what to do.”

kageyama laughs, a gravely sound that makes hinata’s heart clench. “you’re _so_ predictable, hinata.”

“ _hey,_ ” hinata snaps.

“you never notice when you’re about to collapse,” says kageyama, but he sounds—he sounds so fucking _fond._ “you’re always _go go go_ and energy and noise and whatever. most people slow to a stop, but you just drop straight off the edge of a cliff and then get surprised when you didn’t see it coming.”

hinata hates that he’s right. hinata _doesn’t_ slow down, but that means when he comes across an obstacle, whether it be in volleyball or life, he _slams_ into it with full force. sometimes that means he bursts right through to the other side without even slowing down. and sometimes, like now, that means he gets thrown back so hard he gives himself whiplash.

gingerly, kageyama adds, “you do it in volleyball all the time. remember nationals, the first time?” hinata does, and thinking of how it ended still makes his heart ache. he’s long since worked through the guilt, and he knows kageyama isn’t bringing it up to be _mean,_ but it still hurts to hear kageyama say, “you didn’t even notice the signs that something was wrong because you were hyper-fixated on how great everything was instead. you didn’t stop—not once. and then it hit you like a wall, and it took you out.”

hinata doesn’t respond to that, breathing hard into the mattress. in the past few years, kageyama has occasionally brought up the incident to remind hinata to take care of himself physically, almost like a threat of how other tournaments could go downhill if hinata didn’t pay more attention to his physical needs.

“i’m not blaming you for anything,” kageyama adds. “and obviously getting homesick isn’t like getting a fever during nationals. but i’m just saying that…” he trails off. hinata holds his breath, and then kageyama just says, “fuck. i don’t know what i’m trying to say. sorry.”

god, hinata wants to cry. kageyama is—is trying so _fucking_ hard. he knows that hinata is feeling vulnerable and emotional right now, knows that he called kageyama for a reason, and maybe kageyama isn’t experienced in this, but he’s trying. he’s trying. hinata loves him so much that it hurts even worse than the goddamn homesickness.

“no, i think i get what you’re trying to say,” says hinata, forcing a light laugh into it. “it was like i was too busy running around and settling down and checking out the city that my brain didn’t have time to really process what was going on.” he can recognize that much. “and i thought it was all just fun and new. and then the moment i really took a deep breath, everything hit me at once. and i didn’t see it coming, because i thought i wasn’t going to miss home. i thought i wasn’t going to be afraid of what being here means. but i have to expect some emotional turmoil when i’m leaving everything behind.”

“i just don’t want you feeling like this all the time,” kageyama says, sounding slightly strained in admitting it. “i mean, i don’t mind the call.” he pauses. “actually, i really like this. but i don’t like that you apparently sobbed your eyes out first.”

hinata laughs. “yeah, me neither. so you’re telling me i should be aware of my own emotional well-being and be realistic about the fact that this isn’t going to be all sunshine and rainbows?”

“yeah, i guess.”

“and that means… calling you _before_ i have an emotional breakdown so i don’t feel so homesick?”

he can just _see_ the panicked look on kageyama’s face at the insinuation that that’s what he wants, and if hinata didn’t know kageyama like the back of a volleyball, it would be painfully obvious from the prolonged pause and then the way he stutters out a, “i—i mean, yeah, sure. if you… want. that. sure.”

“you’re so easy to tease, kageyama-kun.”

“i’m trying to help you, dumbass! don’t throw it back in my face.”

“so you _don’t_ want me to call you often to maintain emotional equilibrium?”

kageyama takes a deep breath, the air crackling through the phone. “i want you to call me,” he says, and he’s probably blushing as he does, and hinata wants to kiss him right about now, except they’re ten thousand miles away from each other. “i want you to call me when you’re feeling homesick and when you miss me and when you don’t. when you learn an amazing technique in beach volleyball and when you get caught in a downpour ten miles from the nearest bus stop and when you see a stupid tv commercial. i’ll just talk to you, hinata. i’m not good at emotional advice and you know that. but i… i know you. and i miss you. and i want you to be okay.”

oh, he was afraid of this. he was afraid of finding absence really does make the heart grow fonder, and of realizing he made a horrible mistake by telling kageyama they should wait until he gets back to japan, and of seeing how hinata leaving has made kageyama homesick, too.

he aches. he _aches._

“you could just say you love me, you know,” says hinata, unable to fend off the need to cut the tension with teasing.

but kageyama just says, “okay. i love you. will you call me?”

hinata takes a very deep breath, and then hangs up.

within seconds, his phone is ringing again, and he debates just not answering. but then he looks at the picture that has come up on his home screen, the one set as kageyama’s contact picture, and it’s… probably the worst picture he’s ever taken of kageyama. this would be more moving if hinata was looking at a picture of them someone had taken without them knowing—one of them crowding around the same phone to watch replays of a v.league game, or sleeping on each other’s shoulders during a team road trip, or halfway down a shadowed hallway between games, hinata backed against the wall with kageyama’s hand pressed beside his head, their height difference more evident than ever, their mouths open in matching grins at whatever conversation they’re having.

yes. that would be moving. but this is kageyama he’s talking about, and he’s looking at this zoomed in, low quality piece of shit photo where kageyama is making an awful face, a photo he hasn’t changed since first year, and he thinks… he’s always going to be a little homesick. but maybe it’s not about making that go away. maybe it’s just about learning how to exist with it, and learning ways to slow down, and learning how to keep the emotions from hitting him like this again.

the first step of which is—

“you little shit! i _cannot_ believe you hung up on me!”

“i love you too,” says hinata by way of greeting. “i’ll call you. okay?”

he thinks kageyama might hang up on him in retaliation, but there’s just a momentary pause before kageyama says, quiet quiet quiet: “okay. you’re gonna have such a great time there, hinata.”

“i know.” he sighs, turning his face so he can rake his eyes over this little room that will be his for two years. it still has some of the same decorations as his room back in japan, and those are still his clothes and other belongings, and it’s still _his._ but outside of these walls, everything is going to be different. “that’s what scares me.”

“i’ve never known you to be someone who was afraid of the unknown.”

_hinata_ has never taken himself as someone who could feel this kind of fear, either. but it turns out he’s not fearless. maybe that’s just part of growing up, too. “i’ve never moved to a new country before,” he says. “but… you’re right. it’s gonna be great. i’m gonna be great.”

“that’s the spirit.”

“but… it’s still scary. and it’s still not home yet. and i’m still going to feel sort of out of sync with myself for a bit, i think.” that’s the homesickness, he’s realized now that he’s talked to kageyama—he does miss home and kageyama and his family. but it’s not necessarily that he wants to go home. it’s that he’s been displaced physically, and so he’s been displaced emotionally, and it’s a bit much for his emotions to handle right now, and it’s causing this ache deep within him. he’ll get used to this country and his emotions will balance out once more. he might miss home in a more logical way the longer he’s gone, but it won’t be like this. and when it _does_ get like this, he knows just what can help lessen the sting of homesickness.

somewhere out there, across oceans, is someone who is willing to sit in it with him. who is willing to hold his hand through it. who will wake up for every call, listen to every word, live through every day—good _and_ bad.

yeah, hinata thinks. he’s looking forward to the next two years in brazil, but after, when he gets to go home? that’s the day he’ll be patiently waiting for no matter how good he has it.

“that’s okay, too,” says kageyama. “although i might need to set my alarm a little earlier if this is going to become a regular thing.”

“shut up, kageyama,” groans hinata. “i’ll try to save my emotional breakdowns for a more convenient time for you.”

“i really appreciate it. i’m very busy, as you know.”

hinata laughs, feeling lighter than he has for a while. “you’re so fucking annoying.”

“that’s my line, actually.”

“i _am_ sorry for waking you up this early. i can hang up for real now if you want to go back to sleep. i feel a lot better.”

“well, it’s too late now,” sighs kageyama, but he doesn’t sound upset at all. “i’m wide awake so i might as well keep talking to you.”

“you make it sound like such a chore.”

“you want me to say it’s the best way i could possibly start my day, huh? _so_ needy.”

hinata scoffs. “asshole.”

“dumbass.”

“thank you, though,” says hinata, rolling onto his back and looking up at the ceiling once more. his eyes are still sore, but the wave of homesickness has passed. something within him still aches, but it’s not overwhelming. in fact, he’s kind of grateful for it, this reminder that he has something to miss. “for picking up. i was kind of—floating for a while there. but i don’t feel like that anymore.”

“you’re my best friend, hinata,” says kageyama. “and i do love you, and i want you to be okay. i’ll always pick up.” he pauses, and then adds, “this is my _i’m here_ moment for you. you got yours with me in high school, so it just makes sense.” hinata thinks back on those days with equal fondness and disdain, when they were still figuring out how to exist around each other. but kageyama has told him about the utter loneliness of middle school, and how no one was there—physically, emotionally. in volleyball and every other faucet of his life, too. and how, in the end, it was hinata who broke through it all.

_i’m here,_ he’d said. _i’m here._

and now it’s kageyama’s turn.

“besides,” kageyama adds. “i talked about my whole boring week and didn’t get to hear about yours. and you’re the one actually doing something exciting, so i bet you’re just dying to rub it in my face how great brazil is.”

hinata can’t help but grin. kageyama knows him so well. “my life _is_ totally ten times better than yours right now, you’re right. did i tell you what happened literally as soon as i stepped out of the airport?” kageyama sighs like it’s bothersome, but even in that, hinata can hear the smile. even in that, he knows kageyama will let hinata talk and talk and talk until he exhausts himself, and he’ll tease hinata about the things hinata wants him to tease about, and he’ll call hinata an idiot in every other sentence, and they’ll bicker and argue about insignificant things, as they always have.

and hinata will be horribly, wonderfully in love, as he always has.

and the homesickness probably won’t go away entirely. he’ll still miss his family and speaking his own language and knowing how everything works. he’ll miss his home and his favourite foods and his sense of belonging. but it won’t be as bad, because he’s _not_ untethered—not like he felt when the homesickness first hit. because he has kageyama. he’s always going to have kageyama. he’ll always be a little homesick for what they had before he left, but it’s _because_ of that homesickness that he’ll want to enjoy himself even more here, so when he finally gets to go back home to kageyama, he’ll leave with no fear of having missed out on something great.

they made a promise, after all. this is another challenge for hinata to conquer, another opportunity for him to grow. what he’s just beginning to learn is not every obstacle needs to be attacked with brute force. sometimes it’s okay to sit with it, to let himself _feel_ every bit of it. without the bitter, the sweet isn’t quite the same.

and when they eventually hang up—because both of them concede that they need food and kageyama actually does have things to do and hinata thinks he might be able to venture outside now that his eyes are no longer red—hinata knows it’s going to be a good two years. it won’t be easy and he won’t love every minute of it. but it’s going to be good. hinata can hardly wait to do it all—

and then call kageyama about it.

**Author's Note:**

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